


A while longer

by Urimaginarygirlfriend



Series: Save that heart for me [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Recovery, Season 8, angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12891057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urimaginarygirlfriend/pseuds/Urimaginarygirlfriend
Summary: Sansa gets used to Theon, and the all too imminent fact that he’ll leave again.





	A while longer

He has changed. He came to her filled with purpose, showed up at the gates as if he wasn’t just playing at being a man, but like he really was one.

Sansa hears things from the other men; Theon was the one who convinced Yara’s men to stay, and he led them in retrieving her from Cersei’s hands. “I know she is cruel,” he had said when she asked, and they’ve both known enough of cruel people. “I know,” she says, and thinks of how she would tell Yara she was sorry, if only Yara was close enough that she’d let her.

“I know that you know,” Theon says, catching her by surprise, and takes her hand, squeezing it. And relief floods through her; that someone knows she had scars before that cruel man, and that he sees it for what it was. He knows she never wanted anything to do with those people when she came to her senses, that it was all a mistake, and that is enough to open something in her she didn’t know she still had.

She remembers the first time she fell in love. She remembers her heart fluttering and feeling too warm in her skin, but this is different. This is deeper, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know how to act around it, how to do anything about it. She ignores it, as best as she can, though the feelings are still ever present, just not their name.

There are rooms Theon does not visit, and there are things that still feel to fresh. There are moments where he isn’t really there, but in someplace dark and painful. That is a place Sansa knows, perhaps not in exactly the way he does, but still in a way that is similar. She knows enough to know she can help him back.

She learns how to tell when he has episodes, what subjects to avoid, how to calm him. The first time she tries asking him something and he can’t bring himself to respond, she stays with him a long while. “I’m sorry,” he tells her after, when his face is more relaxed and he does not flinch at every move she makes.

“Don’t be,” she says, and puts a hand on his chest, right over his heart, feeling it beat forcefully under her palm despite his newfound calmness. She swallows, takes a step back, and leaves him with a quick kiss on his cheek. Her lips burn as she walks away.

Theon takes to practicing in the yard. He is not horrible with a sword, but it is not his preferred weapon. Instead he turns to archery. He practices hitting things while on horseback, shooting from a distance and with as many different bows he can. “You’re a good shot,” she tells him one day, as she passes him in the yard.

He looks slightly lost. “Thank you, Sansa,” he says. She can see something flicker over his face, remembering. She stands ready, ears sharp, but his face soon returns to normal. “I saved your brother, once,” he says, “from a group of wildlings. One of them had him in his grip, and I shot him. Bran lived that day, but Robb was furious. _’What if you missed?’_ he kept saying, but I didn’t. I didn’t miss.”

She offers a reassuring smile. “No. You didn’t,” she affirms. He looks down at his boots, needs a minute to find words. “I don’t want to make choices like I have anymore,” he says, and his eyes are pained, but certain and firm. “I’m done being reckless. I know myself. I know what I love. I know where I belong.” He talks with a fierceness Sansa has never seen from him before, not from anything other than fear. This whole new side of him settles in her, like all her hopes being fulfilled at once and giving room for new ones, and she feels her eyes tearing up.

“I know,” she says, manages to keep herself from crying, and gives him a watery smile. The cold air feels sharp, like it’s cutting into her just for standing there, for being so full of things she shouldn’t want but can’t help wanting. A thought creeps up on her, burns under her skin like wildfire for just a second, but that’s all it takes.

“You could stay a while,” she blurts out, and regrets it as soon as the words leave her. She feels her tears burning behind her eyes. She can tell that he is thinking the same. “You know I can’t,” he says, gently. “My place is with Yara. I’m sorry,” he says, as a tear pushes past her defences, and she raises her hand to wave him off. “No, forget it,” she says, “it was… _stupid,_ anyway.” She can’t stop crying now that she’s started, and Theon takes her hand, and she holds onto him like it could somehow change anything.

“I will be here a while longer,” he says, trying to comfort her, and she nods, smiles that diluted smile again, and wipes the tears from her face. She takes a shaky breath. “Yes. A while longer.” The sting gets to her, and she squeezes his hand one last time before turning around and walking away. She can feel his eyes, dark and sad like the sea, burning her back as she retreats, but she can’t do anything to keep them there.

She can’t stop thinking of him, and a thought strikes her, pathetic and cruel and her last hope. She comes to his rooms after they are retired, knocking gently and ignoring her doubts as she waits for him to answer.

He opens the door and is startled at seeing her there, but he lets her in once she asks. She does not sit down, even as he closes the door. Instead she moves to him, her hands on his chest, avoiding his eyes. His hands on her waist is only a small comfort, but she memorises the feel all the same. She is foolish and craven for what she is about to ask, but she won’t find peace until she has.

“I wish you’d stay,” she says, tears flooding her eyes. “With me. For some time. I don’t want to lose you,” she confesses, feeling like such a child. She releases a sob it seems like she’s been holding in forever, and he holds her tighter.

“I can’t,” he says, his own sobs thickening his voice. “You know I can’t. I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry.” A part of her rips away at hearing him say it, tears itself to pieces and lays broken in her heart, but she refuses to let it end there.

She pulls away from him, wipes away the single tear running down his cheek. “No,” she says, sniffles. “Don’t be sorry. Not for this.” Then she leans forward and kisses him, with lips that taste like salt and feels like home, and for a moment he forgets who they are and gets lost in the feel of her against him.

Then he remembers, and pulls away, but not entirely. She takes his hand and leads him towards his bed, pulling off his doublet and her dress with shaking hands and gets under the furs, pulling him with her. He keeps her close to him, kisses the corner of her mouth goodnight, and falls asleep with his face close to hers. She feels safe, and warm, and loved, and for now, that must be enough.

He stays with her until dawn, and she finds herself tangled up in him. The pillow smells like him, but she knows it will not stay that way for long. He leaves as soon as the sun winds its way through the window, and with a final kiss to her forehead, he goes to pack his last things.

He leaves her with the rest of them, off to fight for their lives in the shrewd cold of the North. “I’ll think of you,” he says, his hands nervous around hers. She sighs, wants things to be different and is so tired that it will always be this. Her family sent off to wars they might not win. “You know I will be thinking of you, too,” she says, and kisses his cheek.

And so he leaves, with no other promise than a simple, _I’ll think of you,_ but it is better than nothing. It is something she is sure he can keep, at least. And she knows he is done breaking promises.

**Author's Note:**

> You guys. Theonsa has taken over a part of my brain. And please please listen to ‘Slowly’ and 'Undercover’ by Susanne Sundfør because they made me cry while writing this.


End file.
